


Christmas in Cairo

by tinydooms



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Found Family, Gift Giving, Love, Marriage, family traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: Sometimes life hands you joy. And sometimes it's Christmas.
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Comments: 24
Kudos: 57





	Christmas in Cairo

**Christmas in Cairo**

_Christmas Day, 1922_

Rick woke slowly, warm and heavy with sleep. Pre-dawn light filtered through the slats in the shutter, turning the room a deep purple-blue. Evie lay curled in the crook of his elbow, breathing deeply. Without opening his eyes, Rick rolled to press himself along her, breathing in the soft warm scent of her hair, her skin. He smiled.

Being married agreed with him. Since their wedding three days ago they had spent barely any time apart, and true, they had spent most of it in bed, but still. When they weren’t canoodling, they were just _being_ together, eating or reading or walking through the souk, arms linked, _married_. There was no time for bad dreams when Evie was at his side, in his arms, bright eyed and insatiable or sleepy and quiet. For the first time since he was thirteen, Rick had a family. It filled him with astonishment and delight. 

In her sleep, Evie sighed and snuggled into him. Rick ran his hand over her arm, down her side, reached forward to cup her breast through the thin silk of her nightgown. No need to wake up just yet. They had all day, and it was early. They had returned to their house in Zamalek ( _their_ house!) after a couple of days enjoying the luxuries of Shepheard’s Hotel, and tomorrow they were heading downriver to one of the new beach resorts near Alexandria for their honeymoon, but today was Christmas, and they had no plans to do anything but celebrate. Rick drowsed. This was nice. No plans, no places to be, just him and Evie, curled up warm and safe and alone--

The bedroom door clicked open. Rick raised his head from the pillow, surprised. 

“Who’s there?”

“Confound it, Rick, go back to sleep!” Jonathan hissed. 

“What, why?”

“You’ll wake Evie, that’s why!”

“What are you doing in our room?” _Our_ room. 

“Hush,” said Jonathan, advancing on tiptoes to the bed. “I’m Father Christmas!”

He held two shapes in his hand--Christmas stockings, Rick realized. He lay them at the foot of the bed. 

“Aren’t those supposed to go by the fireplace?”

“No,” Jonathan said with finality, tiptoeing back the way he had come. “You never saw me.”

He eased the door shut behind him and Rick let his head fall back on the pillow, beginning to laugh. So _that_ was why Evie had insisted they wear pajamas to bed. 

Speaking of Evie, his wife (his _wife!_ ) was stirring in his arms. “Was that Father Christmas?” she murmured, rolling over. 

“Yeah,” Rick said. “He left us a present.”

Evie opened her eyes and smiled. “Jolly good. Shall we open it?”

“Or we could lay here for a while,” Rick said, rubbing her back. “It’s still early.”

“Mmm,” Evie mumbled, pressing herself into him. “Kiss me all over.”

Command or invitation, Rick accepted happily. He was learning that she liked soft, light kisses all over her face and neck and chest and he delighted in giving them to her. For a while they forgot everything but each other, slowly waking up as they moved together. This was nice. This was _lovely_. This was the best Christmas of Rick’s life. Finally, though, Evie bopped him lightly on the chest and sat up. 

“Come on, don’t you want to see what Father Christmas brought you?”

“Well,” Rick said, sitting up and folding his legs, “considering ‘Father Christmas’ hasn’t brought me anything since I was a little kid, I’ll admit I’m intrigued. But you know, he looks an awful lot like Jonathan.”

Evie laughed. “And me; I snuck Jonathan’s stocking to him in the middle of the night.”

Rick grinned. “So is this a tradition?”

“Oh, yes,” Evie said, passing him a green velvet stocking stuffed with goodies and settling her own red one in her lap “My mother used to do them, of course, but after it was just the two of us, we did each other’s. And I helped make up yours. Go one.”

Rick emptied the contents of the stocking onto the blanket. There was a packet of chocolate almonds, a new leather wallet, a small square wristwatch with a brown leather strap, a couple of boiled sweets in colorful paper, and a satsuma. Delighted, Rick examined each piece. 

“Open the wallet,” Evie prompted. 

“Why, what’s in it? Oh.” Inside, tucked into the pocket, were three photographs: one of Evie wearing a straw hat and mugging for the camera, one of the pair of them grinning like idiots outside of the registry office on their wedding day, and a third taken by a waiter at Shepheard’s of the three of them together just before their wedding dinner. 

“Do you like it?” Evie asked, looking at him with her glowing eyes. “I know it’s a bit sentimental, but my father always carried our photographs; I thought it would be nice…”

She trailed off as Rick set down the wallet and put his hands on her face, kissing her gently. “I love it,” he whispered, rubbing his nose to hers. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Evie grinned, pleased, and turned her attention to her own stocking. Inside were the same chocolates, sweets, and satsuma as Rick’s, as well as a small grey velvet jeweler’s box and a pen box containing a new fountain pen. Rick watched Evie pick up the jewelry box and open it. Inside nestled a pair of silver earrings in an art deco pattern from which hung a green jewel. 

“They’re real emeralds,” Rick said, rather shyly. “I thought they matched your eyes.”

Evie was already putting them on. “They’re beautiful, darling. You have excellent taste.”

Rick laughed. “The rest of your presents are downstairs.”

“Ooh.” Evie rolled out of bed, reaching for her robe. It was, Rick had learned, called a peignoir and was entirely different from a bathrobe. He had one, too, only it was called a ‘dressing gown’ if you were a man. Rick didn’t mind the new terminology. He kind of liked having new words for things he had never had a use for before. He liked the way the eau-de-Nil silk looked against Evie’s skin. 

“You’re smiling,” Evie said, belting it around her middle.

“You’re just really beautiful,” Rick replied. 

She laughed. “And I haven’t even cleaned my teeth yet! Come on, husband.”

Rick grinned and followed her out of the room, slinging his own robe around his shoulders. _Husband._

The rest of the morning passed in a lazy progression of presents and breakfast, eaten around the table in the library, as was Carnahan Family Tradition. There were spiced breads and fried eggs and bacon and more traditionally Egyptian fare like ful and shakshuka. There were oranges and coffee and fruit juices. They ate at a leisurely pace, opening presents in between. Rick had taken care with the gifts he got his new family. He had erred on the side of books. For Evie, there were a couple of new detective novels; for Jonathan, two new books by Wodehouse. He grinned a little as he passed Evie her final present. 

“Just in case,” he said and Jonathan grimaced. 

“More frightening words were never spoken,” he said. 

Evie unwrapped the box and burst out laughing. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

She held up an elegant pearl-handled revolver. 

“Shoot mummies, of course,” Rick said, and they all laughed. 

“Swords were more effective, if I remember correctly,” Evie said. “Actually, I bought you something for our next dig, too.”

It was a camera, a Kodak Senior Six-16 with an accompanying tripod and a couple of spools of film. From Jonathan came snorkeling gear (“Do try not to drown on your honeymoon, all right?”). It was all too much, more than Rick had ever expected. He said as much, and his new family beamed at him. 

“We figured as much,” Evie said. 

“Stick with us, old chap,” Jonathan agreed. “We know how to do Christmas.”

Later they dressed and walked down to the Anglican church for a carol service. Coptic Christmas wasn’t for another three weeks, but the Western establishment had never let a little thing such as orthodoxy bother them, and Rick found that he enjoyed singing carols with all of these strangers. Then home for Christmas dinner, with paper crowns and crackers and jokes both silly and rude, and more carols played on the parlor piano, Jonathan making up new verses off the cuff that had them all laughing. If this was Christmas with the Carnahans, Rick thought as he fell into bed beside Evie that night, he could get used to it. 

“Are you happy?” Evie asked, settling in with her head on his shoulder. 

“Very,” Rick said, tracing his finger over her face. “Thank you.”

_Thank you for loving me. Thank you for sharing your life with me. Thank you for giving me a brother. Thank you for your family traditions, and books, and stupid parlor games, and paper crowns. Thank you._

Author's Note: this came from a prompt on tumblr, asking me to write Christmas with the O'Connell/Carnahan family. If you have a story you'd like to request, please feel free to ask!


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